Borne on the Wings of Memory
by Enim Vivis
Summary: On modern-day Earth, Max and her flock have been captured by the School... again. But this time, something's changed. Five have come again, and are the School's newest experiments. 'All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again.' The children of the Twelve Colonies have come again, armed with the knowledge the Five failed to bestow. And the Fleet has risen again.
1. One Has Learned the Truth

**So Says the Author:** Ohhaidere.

I'm Eni. And this is my first story. And. Um. I guess I created a whole new category! Whoop-de-fucking-doo. Er, right. That's why this is T- because I'm a bad girl who likes to cuss. And thanks to the fact that this crossover is with the amazingly amazing Battlestar Galactica, I can do so._  
_

Your argument is invalid. Max gets to cuss too, 'cuz she's a bad mommy.

So in case you're really, really, really confused like you probably should be because I'm a horrible author who doesn't explain things, here's the rundown: This springboards off the end of Daybreak, so spoiler alert. It'll be 150,000 years after the fleet-ers settle on the second Earth and Gaius builds a new harem with the cavemen. Basically, five of our favorite characters are back! :D Including Kara. I'm still not sure what the fuck was up with her, and BY THE WAY she was so cruel leaving Lee on that hill and poofing -sob-

I'm going to let you guess who the other four are. -rubs hands together with malicious intent-

The plot for the moment is a little up-in-the-air, and I honestly haven't figured it out. I can say I like to stay three chapters or so ahead of the ones posted, so yes, chapters 1-3 are written at the moment. They'll range between 1,000 and 3,000 words, and I'll update whenever I can.

I know this fic is hard to find, so I'd _really_ appreciate reviews because they're usually the only things keeping me from abandoning my stories altogether. ;u;

Enough of my crap. Read!

* * *

_Max_

* * *

"God damnit," I muttered, clutching the bars of my cage in a death grip. We were at the School. In dog crates. _Again._

Oh, hi there. Right. You wouldn't know a thing, unless you've been keeping up to date on my recent escapades. My name is Maximum Ride, but I really prefer Max. People only call me Maximum when a.), they're lying weasels named Jeb Batchelder; b.), when they're evil and want to sell me off to a foreign country; or usually c.), when shit hits the fan and someone's trying to get my attention.

Wait- did I mention the big important thing? I'm a bird kid, me and my flock. Hardy-har-har with the naming, I know. And no, I'm not kidding.

98% human, 2% avian. And thank the Lord that two percent granted me my feathery fun bundles, because without them I would have died a long time ago. Truth be told, without them I wouldn't be born because Maximum freakin' Ride was literally created to fly.

I'm a genetic experiment, in case you're slow on the uptake and can't take a hint.

So's my flock. There's Fang, my right-hand man, sometimes-love-interest, dark and stoic and pretty all-around badass. Iggy, the blind one (the scientists tried for night-vision, but instead he got black-vision), who can cook like a dream and has a scary penchant for explosives. Nudge, dark-skinned and fashion-obsessed, who can talk your head off with the word prompt 'toast'. Gazzy, Iggy's sidekick and the only one biologically related to anyone else in the flock. And Angel, said biologically-related person. Sweet little six year old Angel, with enough freaky mutant powers to make Magneto piss himself.

"So what's our escape plan this time?" Iggy asked, clearly just humoring me. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm rolling my eyes, Ig." Huffing in annoyance, I leaned back against the bars of my cage, positioning myself so that the freezing steel bar was clear in the middle of my back, in between my wings. Sitting back against wings = much pain. "We'll wait till that rat Jeb shows his ugly 'stache. Then we'll wait for our window. U&A first chance you get, kay guys?"

A general mutter of assent rippled throughout my flock. Morale was dormant; not low, just resigned. We all knew that escaping from the whitecoats was getting harder and harder.

Back to my latest escapade. We'd just finished up our stint in Antarctica plus the consequent hurricane survival, and after we'd ferried Total back to his furry slobbery love Akila the Alaskan Malamute, we'd continued on our merry way for some relaxation.

But nooo, the whitecoats couldn't have that. They just HAD to interrupt our pleasant vacation with tranq darts and dog crates. Hell, I didn't even know the School was still active. We'd taken down ITEX, it's biggest sponsor, but clearly they had a whole back-up system with reserve bank accounts and everything. Stupid Goddamn CIA-level paranoid villains.

"... will begin testing them shortly."

Soft voices became louder as a group whitecoats advanced up the hallway towards our room, complete with the squeaky wheels of multiple cages being moved and the hard combat-boot thumps of Flyboys doing the dirty work and pushing the carts.

The door swung open and all the shrill noise made me flinch back. A veritable conga line of cages - I counted five - were rolled in and dumped on the floor a few yards away from us. Some of the whitecoats sneered at me as they walked by, and a few of them eyed Angel hungrily. I snarled silently and moved closer to the little blonde's cage, wanting to rip the bars apart and hug her and fly away.

Then the conga line departed, robots and all, and we were left with the five newest poor saps.

"They alive?" I whispered to Angel. She nodded.

"I think so," she said quietly. "They're unconscious and loaded up with drugs, I think. I can't read anything off of them - they're too far under. But they're strong." She frowned, and there was a pause before she let out a slight, sharp intake of breath. "Military."

My eyebrows disappeared beyond my hairline, and Nudge piped up, "Military?! Are they making Captain Americas or something?"

"No, they're not... Weird." Angel began muttering to herself. "They're not American. I can't tell anything else, we'll have to wait until they wake up."

_"They've been here before."_

Both me and Angel jumped at this foreign voice. Looking up in surprise, I saw a tall, stunningly beautiful blonde lady standing in the middle of the room. She was ethereal- too perfect. She was wearing a funky red dress that looked entirely too revealing.

"What do you mean by that? How did you get here?" I demanded, a little spooked. My emotional defenses kicked in, turning inward fear into outward snarkiness. "Last I checked I ordered a 40-piece McNugget Happy Meal, not a side of Xena, Fashion Princess."

"Who are you talking to, Max?" Fang asked.

I swung around, staring at him in disbelief. "The Amazon goddess standing in the middle of our hellhole."

"They can't see her, Max," Angel said softly, gazing at the woman in rapture. "What do you mean, they've been here before?"

The woman smiled, razorsharp. _"All of this has happened before, and all of it will happen again. The cycle is beginning anew. The children of the ancestors of humanity have returned, armed with the secrets the Five failed to bestow."_ Her grin turned feral. _"The remnants of the twelve colonies have risen again."_

Then I blinked, and she was gone.

"Joint hallucination?" I asked Angel, voice a little shaky. Snarkiness could not dispel my fear this time.

"No." If there had been more light, I bet my feathers there would have been an awestruck glow in Angel's eyes. "More like divine intervention."

And lo and behold, our five new friends woke up.

* * *

**So Says the Author:** Aha, torturous cliffhanger prologue-thingy!

Eni is so cruel. Oh, yes, Ms. Amazon is indeed a Six. Incidentally, the same Six that appeared to Baltar throughout the series. -cough sheandtheBaltarthatappearsto CapricaareGod cough- Spoiler alert, people._  
_

Please review, it would absolutely make my day!

_- Eni_


	2. Two Have Seen the Light

**So Says the Author:** Why, hello again.

I know. Silly, silly me. -coughreferencecough- Eni has already updated? I mean, whaaat? Crazy stuffs, amirite? It's what happens when you're a first-time author and you get your FIRST REVIEW -squee- Even if they're anonymous. I love you anyway, steve. Let's have a round of applause for steve! And to answer his question...

_steve:_ Hello, steve. You are amazing, steve. Now that we've got that out of the way... I honestly don't know, in answer to your question. I know that they're gonna get tortured (oh yus, you didn't think it would be all fun and games and learning to fly happily, did you?) and morale's gonna get the crap beaten out of it. And everyone's gonna start seeing or hearing hallucinative voices of God. After that... well, in all capture stories, they've gotta escape, right? ;)  
So that's about as far as I have figured out. ;u; Oh, but I do know that you'll be seeing some other reincarnated characters... -rubs hands evilly- Nope, I don't have an explanation for that either.

Phew. I love my first reviewer so much I just had to give him a long answer -hugs-

Thanks To: **thunder18** for not only favoriting and following the story but for favoriting and following me as well! ;w;

Now read!

* * *

_Max_

* * *

"The sleeping beauties hath risen!"

Iggy's announcement was followed by snickering laughter courtesy of Gazzy and Nudge.

"Shut up, guys," I ordered irritably. "No need to frighten the newbies."

Something clicked in the walls and a few lights brightened up. I raised an eyebrow at Angel, and she simply smiled sweetly. (Which lately makes me shiver more than squee at the adorableness.)

Being the closest one to our disassembled conga line of experiments, I had the first good look.

There were definitely five of them, all in their late twenties. They were dressed in the plain white pants and shirts that we were wearing, and they all had wings pressed tightly to their backs. (More bird people. Yippee.) The way they were fumbling around in pain every time their wings were smushed beneath their weight, they either had no idea they possessed the things or they'd forgotten completely.

The one closest to me was a guy, average height, with broad shoulders and sandy brown hair that was slightly longer than what a military cut would usually be. When his face turned slightly towards me I got a glimpse of über-vivid blue eyes. He had sharply defined muscles, same as the rest of his crew, and a handsome face.

The next was a blonde woman with hair barely past her chin, blue eyes, and a stocky frame. She looked like she worked out quite often. She had a few tattoos, the most prominent being a circle with a wing coming off of it emblazoned on her left arm. A few scars dotted one knee.

After her was another woman, with an Asian look about her plus dark olive skin. Her hair was sleek and dark, pulled back into a fallen-apart ponytail. She had a slight fringe of bangs. She looked slender and about average height, but something told me a lot more strength than should be possible was hidden in those limbs.

The next was another guy, tall and broad-shouldered, with close-cropped brown hair and kind brown eyes that looked dazed and frantic at the same time. One hand frantically scrambled to reach for the previous woman's, and I guessed they were together. Like, ooh-la-la.

The fifth and final one was another guy, stocky like his friends, with black hair and wide eyes. He looked like the guy with the most upper body strength, with rough hands whose calluses I could see from a mile away like he'd been working with heavy equipment his whole life.

Did I mention they all had wings?

"Frak me," the first guy groaned once he'd focused enough to recognize the bars in front of him.

The Asian woman seemed to shake off the drugs the fastest, quickly followed by the dark-haired man. Next was the first guy, then the blonde woman, and finally Mr. Romance.

"Last I checked, you were dead," 1 said to 2.

She groaned. "Don't ask for insightful answers. I feel stoned."

"Like... really stoned?" 4 slurred.

3 slapped her significant other. He woke up. "Keep it together, Helo," she barked.

1 and 5 raised sloppy salutes, while 2 just snorted and slumped over, looking for all the world like she was drunk.

"Who are you guys?" Gazzy asked curiously.

3 frowned at them. "Kids? Since when do ... people capture kids?" Something seemed to trouble her about this, and when she leaned back and her shirt rode up her stomach a little, I noticed barely-visible stretch marks. So. Ooh-la-la and Mrs. Wong have a kid.

"Well duh, seeing as we're all freaks here," Iggy quipped.

"Hey, I still have my pretty face," 'Helo' argued with a large smirk plastered across his face.

2 snorted... again. "Duke it out with Apollo, Helo."

A chorus of laughter, and 1 protested, "I don't remember signing up for a beauty contest, Starbuck."

Alright. Three names, two to go. Helo? Apollo? Starbuck? A little funky, but with a name like Maximum, I suppose I'm being hypocritical.

"You didn't answer my question," Iggy pouted.

Wong leveled a calm, dangerous glare at him - not that it mattered, he couldn't see it, but she didn't need to know that - and responded evenly, "You haven't given us a reason to."

"Just call her Athena and try not to hate us," 5 spoke up. "More enemies don't sound fun right now. Especially not a group of vindictive kids."

More riotous laughter. That did it, they were stoned, save for Athena. "Okay, so we've got the god of the sun and the goddess of wisdom, Starbuck's Coffee Company, Helium, and the mysterious unnamed guy," I summarized.

"Tyrol," Apollo supplied.

"Okaaayyy. Sunny, Brains, Espresso, Balloon, and Tyrol," Fang cracks a grin and I laugh.

"We'll offer some equality," I said without skipping a beat. "I'm Max, that's Fang, Blank-Eyes is Iggy, that's Nudge, and the twin blonde spawns of Satan are Gazzy and Angel. And yes, we're all freaks."

Apollo closed his eyes. "My back itches."

I spread my wings a little. "Welcome to the circus, my Lord," I said sarcastically. My flock followed suit, letting their feathers breathe while trying to keep them from hitting the bars of their cages.

Eyes bulged out of their sockets. Helo choked (on his own spit? I like this guy), Athena coughed, and Apollo twitched. Starbuck laughed, and Tyrol froze.

Finally, Nudge broke the silence. "Show us yours!" she said indignantly.

"Sorry, my only wings are a tiny metal pin that I ditched a long time ago," Apollo replied, a little bewildered.

"Does your 'itch' feel like a pair of muscles?" Gazzy prodded. A few hesitant nods and glares. "Then flex them."

Starbuck was the only one who tried, and her friends nearly shit their pants. The woman herself reached around behind her, only to encounter the strange feeling of a small wall of feathers and muscle. Her wingspan was probably near seventeen feet, I guessed, and were pure white with a dusky gray fringe and brown faded spots.

"Pretty," Angel commented.

Athena followed, and shrieked a little when she inadverdently folded her seventeen-foot wingspan around herself. Hers were a dark, dark chocolate brown, shot through with black feathers along the tops.

Helo's jaw dropped open, and he and Apollo both unfolded theirs at the same time. Both had near-eighteen feet of feathered muscles. Helo's were russet brown and white, speckled like a hawk's. Apollo's were golden brown with white primaries and darker flecks.

Tyrol was the last to try, and as he revealed eighteen-foot wings colored shades of charcoal gray, he looked like he was going to faint.

"That's not metal," I pointed out unnecessarily, trying to hold back my laughter.

"What the frak?" Starbuck all but whimpered. "That's not possible. There's no frakking way."

Athena put her head in her hands. "If they've grown wings on us, they probably tested us," she started to say, voice muffled. "That means they probably know about me and Galen."

Tyrol- Galen I guessed was his first name- bit his lip. "Software with wings, huh?"

"Software?" I questioned, growing wary.

"We're..." Athena hesitated, looking at Tyrol almost as if he was her superior, even though beforehand she'd seemed like the more dominant one. He nodded almost imperceptibly - looking suspiciously unused to command - and she continued. "We're Cylons."

Blank looks all around.

(Helo was still gazing at his wings in slack-jawed blank-eyed wonder, and Starbuck looked like she was finding it hard to focus.)

"And...?" I drawled.

"You don't know what Cylons are?" Apollo asked incredulously. "Wait- you have electricity." The whole group's gazes (save Helo) flicked up to the fluorescent lights. "How long ago was the time of your ancestors? Since the, ah, tribal people? We called them cavemen."

Fang looked them over suspicously, and Angel let out a quick gasp. "You're- you've been here before," she repeated, but this time her voice was full of wonder. "You guys lived here over one hundred and fifty thousand years ago."

"One hundred and fifty thousand?" Starbuck gaped, at the same time as Apollo demanded, "How did you know that?"

"She can read minds. Freaky stuff, I know. Now... can I PLEASE get an answer to the Cylon question?" I elaborated, annoyance clear in my voice.

Athena looked at Tyrol, who nodded for her to explain. She took a deep breath.

"It's a long story. It starts with a planet called Kobol..."

* * *

Over an hour later, silence finally fell after Athena's looooong explanation. And the only thing I could say? "Mindfuck."

All motherly no-cussing rules went out the window. My brain was still struggling through everything she'd said. The five people sitting in front of us were our great-great-great-great-a hundred thousand greats-relatives, distantly. The Cylon blood had long died out of our systems, apparently, but there was a tiny ounce of it in all of us nontheless. The Twelve Colonies were responsible for the evolution of the human race, and their leaders were sitting in front of us.

"Mindfuck," I repeated. "Or, I guess the way you say it, 'mindfrak'."

"Speak for yourselves," Helo said weakly. "I still can't get used to..." he gestured vaguely at his feathers, folded all neatly back up. "... This."

I glanced at the clock the whitecoats had conveniently placed on the wall for us. I knew the routine, back from our first seven-or-so years of life spent here. It was almost fly time.

"You'll get a chance to use 'em in about a minute, so I'd get ready. You're about to get a crash course in flying - old school style."

Right on cue, thirty seconds later, a loud buzzing sound rang out and the hatches on our cages sprung open. The back wall opened and we all filed out, the five Colonists following our lead.

We emerged into a large, open field, all grass and a slight artificial breeze. I knew that exactly two hundred feet above our heads, the fake blue sky turned out to be a hard synthetic dome. Not fun to smash into, let me tell you, but it'll warn you about two seconds before impact. Let's hope the Colonial yahoos thought quick on their feet. I also knew that the whitecoats were watching us, concealed within the walls somewhere.

"Okay, first lesson. Takeoff is optional, landing is mandatory." I smirked. "So don't do either lightly."

Apollo cut me off just as I was about to continue Snarky Flying 101. "Uh… Max, four of us have flown regularly before, and I believe Tyrol was taught rudimentary Raptor flying. You can skip basics." Just as I opened my mouth to retort sharply to that, he laughed and said, "Yes, we know that flying with actual wings is different, God."

I frowned. "What did you call me?"

Starbuck snorted in laughter.

"God. Where we come from, Starbuck was a flight instructor, and she always made all of her students call her God," Apollo explained.

"Hey, you said that your names are just callsigns, right?" Nudge spoke up. Various nods were her answer. "Then… don't you have real names?"

"We prefer our callsigns for now-" Athena started to say, but Tyrol cut across her.

"You already know mine, since I'm not a pilot. Galen Tyrol. Most of the people on Galactica, including the Old Man, just called me 'Chief'."

I nodded. They'd told us about the Old Man, Admiral Adama. Apollo had looked particularly sorrowful when the guy was mentioned. I made a mental note to ask him about it later, although I wasn't too hopeful about an honest answer.

"Kara," Starbuck said.

"Karl," Helo said at almost the same time, smiling at Galen.

Athena sighed. "Sharon. But you already knew that, we explained the Cylon models."

A pause. We all looked expectantly at Apollo, but he let us hang, until… "Lee."

"Alright!" I clapped my hands. "Now, if we're _finally_ done, can we get on with flying?"

Grumbled mutters of assent met my ears and I beamed my best shit-eating grin. "Okie-dokie people. Let's start with takeoff. Easiest way is to launch yourself off a cliff, but since this place is sadly devoid of one, we'll start with the running-and-jumping method. Run, spread your wings, flap, and hope for the best." Then I stood back and looked at my five pupils expectantly.

"You can't be serious," Galen groaned. "That's all the instruction you get?"

"It's the same in my old class in Galactica," Starbuck pointed out. "Tell 'em the basics, hand 'em a manual, stick 'em in the cockpit, and throw them into space."

Apollo laughed. "It wasn't quite _that_ bad. I taught one of your classes while you were out with that busted knee, and your students were scared shitless of me. Mostly because they thought if funloving Starbuck was so bad, then the CAG with the stick up his ass had to be much worse."

"You did have a hell of a stick up your ass," Athena admitted, and they descended _again_ into laughter.

I cleared my throat impatiently. "If you're quite done… can we get on with the flying?"

A chorus of "Yes, God"'s sounded and after some more giggling they got their shit together and stood a good twenty feet apart each, to allow room for their huge wingspans. My flock took to the air, with the exception of Fang and myself. We'd be ground control and wait until the newbies got the hang of it, as much as my wings were aching to fly.

Apollo and Starbuck were the first to start running, to no-one's surprise. They even turned it into a bit of a race, running faster and faster (and flapping) until with herky-jerky movements, Lee caught the breeze and was lifted off the ground. Kara, not one to be outshone, quickly flapped even harder and shot up next to him.

The looks on their faces when they realized they were _actually frakking flying_ were priceless.

"Woooooo!" was the consensus as the two Viper jocks found their speed and banked sharply before hitting the dome wall, swooping upwards – albeit a little clumsily.

Helo was next, Sharon a few paces behind him. Both wobbled as they lifted into the air, but with the semi-experience of Raptor pilots, they fell into tandem and gained altitude quickly.

Tyrol was the only one left. Rubbing his arm, he murmured, "My bones are aching."

"That would be because the whitecoats so thoughtfully hollowed them out," I said dryly. "Now get to it, Chief. Your friends are leaving you in the dust."

He nodded nervously and started running, not looking very sure of himself. After a moment he remembered to flap and did so as hard as he could, beating the air with powerful strokes. Slowly, his feet left the ground, and… he was airborne.

"Ohmygodsthisissofunhahahah!" Helo yelled, caught up in the rush.

"Hey, Chief!" Sharon called teasingly as Tyrol spiralled up to join them. "Nice of you to finally make it!" She twirled a clumy circle around him.

I rolled my eyes as Fang and I rejoined the flock. "They're like a bunch of kindergarteners who just learned how to play a new game," Nudge giggled. "Even though they're, like, a decade older than us."

I snorted. "Yep. They're kinda childish, despite the fact they should be dead."

"Don't be grim!" Iggy chastised, diving down to teach them how to play Wing Tag.

"Let me teach!" I protested, swooping after him. Before I got out of earshot, I heard Angel say to Fang,

"We're childish too. Max most of all, sometimes."

My jaw dropped. "I HEARD THAT!" I hollered over my shoulder, but I followed Iggy the rest of the way to where the newbies were forming an unsteady flight formation.

Iggy and I hung back, Wing Tag plans forgotten, simply watching in awe as they all gained their sea legs- er, sky legs? – quicker than should be possible. Even Tyrol was catching up. With Apollo and Starbuck as the ringleaders, they fell into a militaristic flight formation – half of a wedge, with point fanning out in small tight barrel rolls. Perfect for battle, I supposed.

"Cylon raider!" Apollo called out mockingly, yet seriously, if that was possible. "He's on your six, Helo!" Helo rolled neatly out of the way, folding his wings in slightly as he went through a few sloppy escape manouveres. "Starbuck, you're with me. Athena, Chief, split and on my mark, come in from both sides." Both complied, peeling off to obey orders.

If I recalled what they'd said their military ranks were, Lee was a Major. I think that's higher than Lietenant, Captain, and Chief, which is what the others were, respectively. And he'd been 'CAG', which was the Commander of the Air something.

"I've got your wing, Apollo!" Starbuck called out as the two rolled up and around in a loop to come up behind the 'Raider'. Both of them mimed shooting a handgun, making the 'raider' that none of us could see but that they could all picture so clearly swerve about. Before it could come about and shoot Apollo and Starbuck out of the sky, Tyrol and Athena came diving in from either side, also miming shooting their guns. Helo came rocketing upwards and finished it with a neat shot to one wing. Whatever that meant.

Once they'd broken formation and banked fluidly to rejoin us, the whole flock was just flying in lazy hawk circles, watching the display with wide eyes.

"Well," I cleared my throat awkwardly, the first to speak. "You know your shit."

For some reason this seemed immensely funny to them, and they doubled over laughing, momentarily forgetting where the hell they were. Five figures dropped like stones and Helo let out a manly shriek, before they remembered to flap and came drifting back upwards, blushing bright red.

Silence. Then, "Helo, I didn't know you could reach that octave."

This time when they all cracked up, they continued flying, and started spiralling down to the ground to rest their tired wings. They hadn't built up any stamina yet, after all.

"My bones hurt," Athena admitted as they rested on the grass.

The whole group murmured agreement. "Max said it was because the scientists hollowed them out, to make us lighter and able to fly. Also, something about air sacs?"

Athena blanched. "Lords, I hope it won't mess up my organs even more."

"More?" I questioned, landing on the grass next to them. I'd let the flock continue flying for the time being – the whitecoats let us have this free time, we'd take it. Even if it would just become a carrot for them to dangle in front of us. "What's wrong with your guts?"

"'I find it hard to believe you people went to all the trouble of …' something something, '… but you didn't bother to upgrade the plumbing!'" Sharon quoted, imitating a deep, gravelly voice.

The group cracked up again. "Cottle, the old bastard!" Starbuck chortled. "I completely forgot about the guy. Lords, he was the worst."

More smiles and references to things ensued, but most of it went right over my head. I wasn't sure what they meant by 'hotdog' as if they were referring to a person, 'nuggets', the Old Man, 'that frak-up Baltar', and a few other names.

"Crap!" I let out a few more expletives, the Colonists looking at me strangely. There was another convenient clock on the opposite wall, and by the looks of the time the whitecoats would be hauling us in soon. "GUYS! TIME'S UP, GET YOUR TAIL FEATHERS DOWN HERE PRONTO!" I howled.

The flock came circling down just as the ground dropped out from under our feet. The five newbies plus myself extended our wings as a reflex, me a bit faster on the uptake. The flock joined us with resigned sighs, and we just glided down the deep shaft until we came to a pure white room where we were once again locked into cages. Rows of Flyboys lined the walls, ensuring no hope of escape.

As we were wheeled down hallways slowly and methodically, we passed by a large hangar. Peeking inside as we passed by, I noticed a few strange aircraft and a huge bin full of foreign weapons and missles that didn't look American. The faces of all five newbies lit up like a little kids' at Christmas, though, and I filed that away as important info to ask about later. Maybe the aircraft I'd seen was something they recognized. After all, they were military, weren't they?

* * *

**So Says the Author: **Not as much of a cliffhanger, I guess, but Eni was feeling nice today.

So. Was it crap? I thought it was crap, but I think pretty much all of my writing is crap. Which is why I need you lovely peoples on the interwebs to say nice things! Pwease?

Gahd. The shameless self-advertising. Yep, they kinda got the hang of it quickly, because I'd rather not spend the time writing out sequences of winged Colonial idiots falling out of the fake sky and learning slowly. Your arguments are invalid. (Or maybe they're valid, but I won't listen anyway.)

I feel like the worst author ever now ;n; Demanding feedback then telling you I won't listen. -sigh- Still haven't gotten the hang of it.

Guilt trip, children! Eni will love you! ;^;

_- Eni_


	3. Three Have Felt the Pain

**So Says the Author:** Hey.

I feel intelligent today. (That rhymed!)

Isn't it funny that rhythm is the only word in the English language with no vowels? Unless you count 'y' as a vowel. But meh.

Thank you to my friend Alex for reviewing and jogging my enthusiasm to get this posted!

* * *

_Apollo_

* * *

Over the next week, we were hauled into various labs and tested for so many things I have long since lost count. We were injected with various neon-colored substances, poked, prodded, and cut open again and again until I had what looked like tiger stripes on my arms. It hurt, to say the least. Every so often we were put in that big dome and allowed to fly.

Slowly, our wings became truly part of us. I thought all the time about how much the other pilots would have loved this – how much Zak would have loved it. He wasn't cut out for the cockpit, but I bet he'd be a natural with his own organic wings.

_No, Lee,_ I scolded myself. _Don't think about Zak._

We'd regaled the flock with more tales of our adventures across the vastness of space, and it was clear that the whole group was quickly becoming enamored with the stories of my father. Except, of course, they had no idea what my last name was – therefore no idea of why I flinched every time someone brought him up. The littler ones begged for every detail of our escapades, and in return told us of their strange journeys. Since we found out what Angel could do, we'd all hardened our minds with the same techniques we'd learned for interrogation in the military. After a while of pushing, she'd thankfully given up. The last thing I wanted was all of my secrets laid bare for a six year old too see.

Some of my memories were far too graphic. I knew she was wise beyond her years; but this would be too much. Far too much. My father being shot; the Olympic carrier; finding the Quorum members shot to hell after the mutiny; being shot myself; all the deaths on Kobol; the mutiny… it went on and on. And to think I was only twenty-seven. Well, more like one hundred fifty-thousand and twenty-seven.

I couldn't remember how we'd been brought back – but I did remember dying. It had only been a few years after we'd found this second Earth, and I had journeyed far and wide, exploring all I could. I mourned Kara, of course – thank the gods the flock had been asleep when she and I had really, really met each other again. I'd kissed her through the bars of our cages, and that sweet kiss had stayed with me ever since. Just like the vision of her on Colonial Day, just like the one we shared on the _Astral Queen._ All memories, long ago.

Back to the poking and prodding. After a while, after so much pain and days of just lying on the floors of our cages, aching, the injections began to take effect. There were days where we couldn't sit still; there were days where we couldn't move a muscle, where one or two of us would just lay there and moan in pain while the rest of our little group plus the flock would worry over us.

Two weeks to the day after we'd woken up in cages after apparently being dead for a hundred thousand years, I'd come straight out and asked one of the whitecoats what my genetical makeup was anymore. He'd looked shocked to hell, probably because I'd never once uttered a single vowel before. Then, after some hesitation, he responded,

"Uh… you're planned to become ninety-six percent human, two percent avian, one percent platypus, and one percent trace parts feline. I think. I'm just an assistant, I don't know anything." He started to babble, looking apologetic, but Lee cut him off.

"I'm Lee," he rasped. He wasn't quite sure why he'd said it.

The assisstant beamed. "Will. But most people call me Billy."

Apollo fell silent. William, like his father. Billy, like the kind young man whose heart he'd broke by showing up with Dee at that bar. By being shot. And only later finding out that the President's aide had died. It struck him with a pang.

Once back with the group, he waited until Helo returned from his own testing to break the news about the percentages he'd discovered. He left out the fact that the man was named Billy. Not that any of the others knew their own Billy particularly well.

"You can't trust any of them," Max growled. "Doesn't matter that they're nice. Don't grow attatched."

"You know you're lecturing someone who's had far more training in interrogating and capture than you," he responded dryly. "I know you've had experience being captured, but this isn't the level of torture that we're used to. Although the aching bones is new, and not at all pleasant." He grimaced and turned away from the girl, indicating the conversation was over.

To his surprise, she accepted it, but stewed over it for a day or two. Let it not be said that Maximum Ride doesn't know how to hold a grudge.

The others worked up the initiative to find the kinder whitecoats and ask them about their genetical makeups. They'd all come back with the same answers as Lee. The flock, however, cracked up at the 'one percent platypus' part.

"What's a platypus?" Tyrol asked, confused.

"A cross between a duck and a beaver," Iggy snickered. When their faces remained blank, Angel projected a picture and a brief description into our minds.

Needless to say, we were a little bit mortified. "What use is that?" Starbuck exploded, patting her arms as if expected scales to pop up. Or fur, gods forbid.

So I asked Billy next I caught him alone.

"We were trying to use the platypus' extraordinary oxygen storing techniques, and crossing it with the air sacs that were implanted in you for your avian makeup," he'd replied eagerly. Apparently Lee was the first person who didn't snarl or order the man around, and for that Billy had become my self-proclaimed new best friend. "Basically, it was a success. Say you were underwater, you could stay under for almost a week on oxygen your system automatically stores."

Now _that_ was intriguing. "So…" I prodded cautiously. "Say you were in space, and your suit or ship or whatever ran out of oxygen. Would it work there too? You could breathe on your own stored oxygen for a week?"

He nodded eagerly. "Of course, you'd need a real bulky suit and stuff, because you're still human- mostly. The vacuum would still crush you, not to mention the cold – although you are a little more resistant to extreme temperatures, if they're temperatures you can encounter here on Earth. So no space temperatures, but in, say, the Arctic? You'd definitely last far longer than a regular human."

"Thanks," I said with a wan smile, and allowed a grinning Billy to put me under for his next round of injections.

After sharing my findings with the others, Max had immediately launched her spiel. "We've got a plan to get out," she told them through Angel. Meaning, she thought the plan, and Angel transmitted it to the rest of the flock and the Colonists. This way the audio and cameras couldn't pick up on a single thing.

I, especially sore after whatever surgery I'd gone through, lay on my side in his cage, just listening to Angel's melodic voice parroting Max's in my head. Starbuck was looking at me worriedly, I knew, but couldn't bring myself to try to talk to her. Three of us were out in their Super-achy State today; myself, Sharon, and Tyrol. Apparently even Sharon was susceptible to the extreme soreness of their treatment, even if it took a lot to wear her down. Yesterday it had been Starbuck and Helo; the day before it was Tyrol, Sharon, and I. The day before that it was Starbuck, the day before that it was Helo and I, the day before that it was Sharon and Tyrol, etc etc… It was a neverending cycle of pain.

If this were an interrogation, we were nearing the 'starting-to-lose-sanity' state. Even the flock was worried. The military men and women would not break, we knew, but we'd be cutting it damn close.

_'-ollo! Apollo! Lee, are you okay?'_

Angel's insistent prodding finally broke into my consciousness. Slowly, I became aware of Starbuck shaking my shoulder, still numb and wrapped in gauze from his latest torture session.

"Wh-ssat?" I mumbled, twitching my head to try and clear it.

_'Oh, good,'_ Angel thought calmly to me. _'You were out for a minute there. Your thought patterns kind of died way down.'_

_Yeah, sorry to disappoint,_ I thought tiredly, closing my tired eyes. _I heard the plan, though. It's a good one. Thorough. Can I sleep now?_

A pause, and muffled voices broke out. I didn't bother trying to process them. I was just so, so tired… But the last leg of the plan stuck in my mind.

_'Next time you go in for your rounds, see if you can grab one of those metal scalpels. Starbuck, try and swipe some peroxide. Helo, try for anything small and plastic. All of you- look out for any copper or wiring, including Flyboys.'_

_Copy that,_ I thought sleepily, then succumbed to blissful unconsciousness.

* * *

**So Says the Author:** Ah, wonderful Lee!whump.

'Tis my drug of choice, but of course! Eh, get ready for lots of prophecies in the next few chapters. Sorry.

Review, my minions! (Should have mentioned this, but I try to update AFTER I get a review. FYI.)

_- Eni_


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